


Touch

by ClillaryHinton



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-24 04:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13206084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClillaryHinton/pseuds/ClillaryHinton
Summary: Erin reacts differently when Holtzmann touches her. She's not entirely comfortable drawing that conclusion. But she can't deny it, and god knows she's tried.





	1. Watch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ljthebard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljthebard/gifts).



> I read a paper on how men wants to have sex because they're aroused, but women get aroused when they get touched. Since I have fic brain damage, I obviously had to write a Holtzbert story about that. It's unusually tropey for me and sort of like if all my other stories went in a blender and this came out? I'm sorry and you're welcome?
> 
> This is for my homethey LJthebard, for beta-ing and for their pure, unmitigated enthusiasm for things, which the world needs more of, amirite?

Erin reacts differently when Holtzmann touches her. She's not entirely comfortable drawing that conclusion. But she can't deny it, and god knows she's tried.

It started when she was asked to have coffee with a former colleague from Columbia, to discuss a problem within her area of expertise. It shouldn't have been a big deal, but after she got fired and mocked, it was. She adored being a ghostbuster, but she had been a physicist first, and she hadn't lost interest in the more conventional aspects of physics simply because she worked within the realms of the paranormal now. She's still an asset to modern physics, dammit, even if it had nothing to do with portals to other worlds.

She overdid it, she knows that. She wore pinstripes, for god's sake. And heels. She hasn't worn heels for ages: there was no point. The meeting went great. Just because she didn't care as much about approval and academic success as she had when she still worked at Columbia didn't mean it didn't feel good to have her skills acknowledged by a peer. Actually, they had a really interesting conversation. Her ex-colleague had tentatively asked how her current research was going and she had answered that they were making great progress, thank you very much, with a proud smile. She knew what she had accomplished and so did Abby, Patty and Holtzmann: the only people whose approval really mattered.

She returns to the fire station with a deep sense of satisfaction. Her feet ache now, as she joins the others in their comfortable sitting area. Patty's in the big armchair as usual and Abby claimed the recently added loveseat and is slouching comfortably. She pokes a sprawling Holtzmann to make her move over and give her some room on the couch. Abby is getting some broken pipes fixed in her kitchen and is reluctant to return home to the mess the plumbers left for the second day in a row. She suggests that they stay for a movie night. Patty grumbles about having a life outside of work, you know, but Holtzmann's puppy dog eyes and the promise of a giant serving of popcorn convinces her. Erin doesn't really care what movie they pick, she just enjoys the company and the downtime after an emotionally exhausting day.

She flexes her toes and groans.

"Urgh. My feet are killing me. Now I remember why I stopped wearing heels."

She is genuinely surprised when Holtzmann pats her lap and offers a foot massage. She wasn't expecting anyone to offer, but it's not like she'll turn it down.

Holtzmann is really, really good at it. Erin can't help but groan from satisfaction as she gently works the tension out of her sore muscles. She's seen the precision when Holtzmann works on her ground-breaking equipment. Her slim, sensitive fingers can do things with tools and wiring that Erin never knew was possible. Apparently, she can work human muscles like she can work wires and trigger mechanisms and she doesn't seem to tire of it. Erin waits for that dreaded moment during a really good massage when the giver stops, and the receiver tries to rise above begging for them to go on. But it doesn't come.

It isn't totally lost on her that there is a certain intimacy in the situation. A lot of intimacy, if she's honest with herself. Holtzmann's hands travel up and touch her ankles and her calves in a mixture between caress and massage. Erin assumes she means it as the latter and it just feels like the former, but she isn't sure. It feels...different. So soft. But assertive. Like Holtzmann. Like no one else she'd ever met.

Toward the end of the movie, Patty sleeps soundly; Abby yawns and complains half-heartedly about the ending during the credits. Holtzmann's massage has gone from pressure to just touch. Soft, warm palms against Erin's slim ankles and the soles of her feet. Erin can't remember the last time she was this relaxed. If she were a cat, she'd be purring.

Holtzmann smiles a dimpled smile and winks when she says thank you and tells her how good it felt. She doesn't comment on the fact that a foot massage doesn't normally go on for hours and probably not with such tender, loving care. She doesn't want to make Holtzmann self-conscious about it, since she really, really wants her to do it again.

***

Erin pricks up her ears when Patty brings in Gangs of New York next week and requests a movie night do-over, since she hated the one they picked last week. Can she ask Holtzmann for a massage again, or would that be needy and weird? She makes sure she ends up next to her on the couch, masking it as magnanimity in offering Abby the love seat. They all know better than to challenge Patty for her favorite armchair-footstool combination.

She doesn't have to ask. She stretches, and her spine and neck make enough noise for Holtzmann to raise her eyebrows and pat the space on the floor in front of her. Erin asks if she's sure, and Holtzmann looks at her like she doesn't understand the question. Abby chuckles and asks when Erin has ever seen Holtzmann do anything she doesn't want to? She concedes.

She's vaguely aware of Patty shouting at the screen and pointing out all its historical inaccuracies to Abby. She's given up on Holtzmann and Erin. Erin's eyes closed about a quarter of an hour into the movie, unable to keep her focus on anything but Holtzmann's hands kneading her tender muscles.

”You carry a lot of tension in your shoulders.”

”So you keep telling me.”

Erin sighs. She’s never been the most relaxed of persons.

”But you’re right.”

Holtzmann’s hand leaves her shoulder. A brief, almost shy caress down the side of her jaw and neck, reassuring. Erin almost isn’t sure it happened, but when she looks down on her arm, there are goose bumps. Holtzmann goes back to working the tension out. She closes her eyes and leans into the touch. As if through a mutual agreement, none of them mentions that it's no longer a massage when Holtzmann is just running her blunt nails along Erin's scalp and playing with the fine hairs at the nape of her neck while Erin leans her relaxed head against her knee.

She eventually gets too stiff to stay on the floor. The movie is long and violent. Too violent for Erin, who jumps and turns away when it becomes gory. Reflexively, she closes her hand around Holtzmann's wrist. Erin presses her shoulder against Holtzmann's and stays like that. Holtzmann doesn't seem to mind. Her arm migrates to the backrest. Erin feels the heat, the ghost against her neck. So what if it ends up around her shoulders for the last part? It's just more comfortable for Holtzmann that way. Nothing strange about that.

***

Abby likes horror movies. She truly enjoys being scared. Erin doesn't. Ghosts and people are scary enough, she doesn't need movies to scare her. Still, she suggests they watch a horror movie, knowing that Abby will jump at the chance and increase the likelihood they end up on the couch again. Holtzmann rarely says no to Abby, she is her best friend and she likes making her happy. Holtzmann likes making all of them happy. Abby doesn't question it. The Erin she used to know hated horror movies, but the current Erin might like them: it's not like they've had time to go to the movies since they started chasing ghosts together after all these years.

Erin doesn't even have to ask.

"What'll it be?"

The horror movie is the perfect explanation for why Erin sits so close after her back rub. Holtzmann's only in boxer shorts and a tank top. She tries not to stare at the exposed milky skin next to her. As it turns out, she overdid it. The move is really and truly scary, not just cheesy. Not to Holtzmann, Patty and Abby, maybe, but certainly to Erin. But it's not a problem, really, since she spends a lot of it relaxed into Holtzmann, who's running her fingers gently down Erin's inner arm in a gentle, soothing, goose bump inducing caress. The back of her hand rests on Holtzmann's naked thigh. She's very soft. The room shrinks to the gentle, steady motion of Holtzmann's nails scraping softly down her arm and her hand against Holtzmann's skin. Erin is confused and shaken by the fact that Holtzmann can touch her for hours, seemingly without any decrease in interest. Her fingertips travel up Erin's arm over and over again, down to her palm and up again. Erin is shocked by how much she loves it.

Surely, she could have done this with Patty. Cuddling on the couch. Patty is a very affectionate person. Abby…Abby is her sister. Family in a way you can't be simply by birth. She could have… It doesn't ring true in her own head. Patty would have given her a massage for five minutes before going to get another beer and shout at the TV. Abby and her would have sat next to each other for hours in companionable silence, perfectly content. But Holtzmann? Erin is almost in her lap now and even though it's gone on for a full movie, all she can think is "please don't stop".

A few days later, Abby mentions a scene from the movie and Erin has to admit that she has no idea what she's talking about. Finally, Abby asks her if she remembers ANYTHING from last week?

What did Erin remember? Holtzmann's arm around her. How fragile her wrist felt when Erin reflexively closed her hand around it during a disturbing scene. The warmth of her shoulder as she pressed her cheek against it to hide from the events on the screen. The sound of her heartbeat. The comforting low rumble of her laughter when she and Abby made fun of some bad special effects. How she touched her for hours without getting bored.

When they first met, Erin hadn’t been sure if Holtzmann was insane, or merely annoying. She remembered every detail of that first day: how could she not, when it changed her life? She would pick different words to describe Holtzmann now. Warm, funny, brilliant. Possibly still insane. But maybe also ”lovely”.

***

Erin has been learning a lot about Holtzmann lately. Not only that she can be patient, and that the world lost a great massage therapist in her. But also that Holtzmann likes good girls. That strange piece of information was volunteered during a conversation where Patty was joking that Erin was into stiff academic types, or Kevin, and how did that combo even make sense? Erin's perfect match would be a model with a Ph.D., shame there aren't many of those. She protested that she wasn’t that shallow, but when she glanced at Holtzmann she thought that there were plenty of gorgeous people with a Ph.D. and they didn't have to be stiff either. Then Patty joked that Holtzmann was probably into bad girls, something like that. Erin missed the first part of the sentence when she zoned out, looking at Holtzmann. Holtzmann shook her head.

"I like good girls. Being bad is easy. Good? Way harder."

Erin thinks about it a lot. Good girls… What was Holtzmann's definition of good? She has no idea. But she likes it. Bad girls? Meh.

***

She almost says no at the suggestion of another movie night. She's exhausted, they all are. It's been a punishing week. Erin feels tired both emotionally and physically and struggles not to just curl up against Holtzmann, use her words to ask her to hold her. But she doesn't know how to. Holtzmann's tired too, Erin can see it on her face. She wants to reach out and touch the dark circles under her eyes. But she doesn't: of course she doesn't. An overtired Holtzmann is like a child: easily amused and a bit restless, like she can't figure out how to give in to the fatigue. Erin doesn't ask for a backrub this time: she doesn't want to exert Holtzmann even more. In lieu of words, she gently puts her hand, palm up, in Holtzmann's lap; very lightly so she can pull back if Holtzmann doesn't respond. But Holtzmann squeezes her hand gently and travels from her arm up to her shoulder and down again. She stays there, brushing the skin on Erin's wrist and inner arm with the tips of her fingers. Erin feels the calm like liquid running under her skin.

***

It has gone on for a few weeks when Erin loses control of the situation. Whatever the "situation" is. Maybe the silent agreement between her and Holtzmann to pretend that they aren't cuddling on the couch in a way they didn't do with any of their other straight friends. At any rate, the agreement is broken. For some reason, this time Holtzmann's hand wanders and traces the shell of her ear with the tip of her finger. An involuntary but visible shiver goes through Erin: she has no idea why it affects her like that.

"Ah… She likes that."

Holtzmann smiles and Erin tries to keep a neutral face as she answers. It makes her uncomfortable that she is so transparent.

"Come on, Holtz. Cut it out."

Her tone is light, but Holtzmann stops, immediately. Erin has noticed how she always does that: stops, or asks for consent, taking the option for Erin to pretend this is Holtzmann acting on her own away from her. She sticks it out for a few minutes. But Holtzmann is right: she did like it. Just like she liked the backrubs and foot rubs and Holtzmann playing with her hair and that thing she did with her arm… She liked it all, even though she shouldn't.

"Maybe I did... like it. A little."

She can tell that Holtzmann is tempted to tease her about it, but she doesn't. She smiles, but doesn't look Erin in the eye as she runs her fingertips along the shell of her ear again. The other one slides up to the nape of her neck and gently scrapes her scalp. She looks down and sees actual goose bumps on her arm again as Holtzmann touches her earlobe. Erin shivers as her hands conspire against her body.

During a moment of rare vulnerability, Holtzmann had admitted that she found people hard to read. Erin could see that. Holtzmann had a virtuoso's feel for machines and function. She knew instinctively what a system needed to work at optimal capacity and, in her wildly experimental way, saw beneath the layers to find even the subtlest of hidden flaws. People rarely worked at optimal capacity. And they were difficult to tweak. But she also knew that sometimes, only Holtzmann figured out what Erin needed to work at her full capacity. Maybe she was one of the systems Holtzmann understood.

Erin doesn't get touched anymore, that’s the problem. She touches her colleagues, sure, when she needs to. But she doesn't get touched for the sake of touching. Now that it's happening again, it's overwhelming. Erin doesn't know what to do with the heavy throbbing, this greed for more that Holtzmann's hands leave in their wake. Patty is asleep again, head lolling against the high back of the armchair. Erin knows she'll deny falling asleep if someone mentions it tomorrow. Abby’s eyelids are getting heavier too, and her face is peaceful in a way that shows that she’ll be joining Patty. Abby will not deny it: her capacity to sleep anywhere, at any time, is a running joke between her and Erin. Holtzmann glances at Abby and back at Erin.

Holtzmann is beautiful. It’s not like she’s just realised that, she’s not blind. It's just… She seems so conscious of it lately. Conscious of Holtzmann. She can stare at her without even turning her head in this position. Erin kind of...forgets to stop staring. Her strong jawline, the intense blue of her eyes, the fullness of her lips. That’s when Erin thinks it for the first time; they’re close enough to kiss. All she needs to do is turn her head a fraction of an inch. Another first: she realises she wants to. Holtzmann pulls her hands back and Erin feels her heart sink: she noticed her staring and now she's uncomfortable. But Holtzmann keeps looking at her as she puts her hand on her knee this time. Her naked knee. Holtzmann's warm hand feels lovely against her cool skin. It moves to her calf. Back to her knee. Up... Erin takes a deep breath and relaxes into the wandering touch. The soft skin on the inside of her thigh sings under Holtzmann's hand. The caress continues: a little higher now. The world shrinks to the feeling of Holtzmann's hands. She’s so sensitive there and Holtzmann’s palms so warm. Erin inches closer, pressing the side of her thigh against Holtzmann's as her body betrays her. Holtzmann doesn’t stop. Holtzmann never stops. She can feel warm arousal on the inside of her thigh as she subconsciously spreads her legs to give Holtzmann better access to the naked skin. She thinks she hears the sound of her own blood racing through her veins, which she knows isn’t possible. She feels Holtzmann’s breath, heavy and irregular, on her neck and the heat of her lips, just a fraction of an inch away from her skin. She’s trying to will Holtzmann to kiss her there: she doesn’t have the words yet. And Holtzmann doesn’t have the audacity. Yet.

When Abby stirs and straightens her glasses, askew on the bridge of her nose, Holtzmann pulls her hand back as if burned. Erin is left alone on the couch as she jogs out into the kitchen on some real or imagined errand, leaving Erin cold, confused... and aroused.

***

The next day, she's trying to psych herself up to go and talk to Holtzmann. She's trying to rehearse a speech in her head about how they need to talk about this. Whatever "this" is. Ask about the touching. But what if it's all in Erin's head? What if Holtzmann says that there's nothing there? What if… Erin is the queen of "what ifs". She loves being a ghostbuster. She doesn't miss Columbia even a little. But she still feels the rejection in her bones. She just can't handle being rejected by Holtzmann, it would hurt too much.

They get a bust. It's intense and messy and Erin doesn't have time to stare at her colleagues. But she does. Because she can’t unsee it now: the marked cheekbones, the perfect line of her eyebrows, those damn dimples that get her every time. It’s becoming impossible not to stare. She's done it before during a bust: Holtzmann in her right element has always been magnificent, even before this weird thing started. She does this stupid daredevil thing where she jumps from a height high enough to make Erin's stomach turn, and fires her guns, still in the air. She rolls over softly when she loses her footing during the landing. Erin didn't know she could do that. When she gets up, her hair is a mess and her makeup is running from the hot, moist air inside the old warehouse. She has a smudge of dirt on her cheek and there's a red, angry scrape on her elbow. Sweat glistens on her exposed collarbone, first buttons of the jumpsuit unbuttoned. A wave of desire washes over Erin, so strong that she almost mistakes it for nausea or some other physical reaction.

Erin’s been attracted to a few women before. Or maybe girls is the correct term. At least she thinks she has. But she was already Ghost Girl and there was just so much otherness she could face. She pushed those thoughts away. She made out with a few girls in college, but pretended to herself and others it was just for fun or to tempt some guy she was or should be interested in. So, the thoughts aren’t completely new. They’re just in a whole other league.

Holtzmann turns her head. There's a moment when there's nothing else than her eyes on her, right before Erin cries out a warning as a class three apparition comes out of nowhere and Holtzmann has to use every weapon in her arsenal to bring it down. On the way back to the fire station, Erin sits right behind her, as usual. At a traffic light, she puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Well played today, Holtz."

Holtzmann raises her hand to Erin's on her shoulder and brushes her fingers.

"You too."

No joke, no wink, no flippant endearment. There was this gravity between them now. Erin would have given anything to know what Holtzmann was thinking.

***

Erin looks at Kevin. Stares, probes. Where is it now, the shortness of breath, her frantically beating heart, the sweaty palms she used to get when she looked at him? He’s standing next to Holtzmann with a confused look on his face. She's holding a wire up and it seems like she’s trying to explain something. It’s obviously not working.

”Kevin, Kevin. Sweet Kev… Never mind. It’s not important.”

Holtzmann shakes her head benevolently and turns to look at Erin. She looks at her blond eyelashes and wants to reach out and touch them. It’s crazy, you don’t touch people’s eyelashes. But they look so soft. Erin wipes her suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans. She admits that she might have a thing for blonde, as she sees Holtzmann push a strand of hair out of her face. But she likes big, tall, she tells herself as Holtzmann goes up on tiptoe to reach a machine part on a shelf. Strong, wide shouldered. Holtzmann struggles to move the big chunk of metal and Erin can see the muscles strain and move in her fine limbs. Narrow, manly hips, she thought as she watched the feminine curve of Holtzmann’s waist and hips and the outline of her ass as she bent over, and Erin has to take a deep breath. A masculine, angular face, she tells herself sternly, just before Holtzmann turns her head and smiles. She winked, and Erin is sure her heart skips a beat. It races as she follows the curve of Holtzmann’s pink lips. She lays her head down on the cool surface of her desk and groans quietly. Who is she kidding? At least the blonde part is true…

She walks over to talk to her, on some made-up errand. Not that she needs one: Holtzmann always looks happy to see her, like Erin walking over to her work space is the best part of her day. One of Holtzmann's machines is letting out hot steam and the temperature is just above uncomfortable. Holtzmann is in a tank top, which is understandable, considering the heat. The fabric has an uneven texture. She realises as she gets close that the colour variations come from Holtzmann's skin being visible through the sheer white of the tank.

She sounds almost accusing when she says it.

"Did you know that top is transparent?"

"I did not."

"Or maybe not transparent as such, but you know, definitely a bit see-through."

Erin has bad impulse control, she knows that. She looks down at the dusky pink of Holtzmann's nipples, very faintly visible beneath the sheer fabric. No bra. Of course, Holtzmann does whatever she likes, that's part of the appeal. She should stop staring. Her mind screams at her how soft Holtzmann's perfect little breasts would be to touch. Erin already knows how the milky skin of her legs feel against her own. Holtzmann sat close to her wearing nothing but a cut up t-shirt and the boxer shorts she slept in for two whole movies. Erin touched her knee and left her hand there, like she was powerless against her own knowledge that it's probably weird to spend hours with your palm against your friend's knee, obsessed with how soft her skin is. So, Erin has no trouble imagining her hands shaping around them. She can feel it, like an ache in the centre of her palm.

That night, she has a sex dream about Holtzmann. She tries to explain it away, tries to call it something else, but it doesn't work. They don't actually have sex in the dream. Not exactly… She licks Holtzmann's pale stomach, pushes her tongue into her belly button, kisses her hip bone. That's all she remembers. She wakes up warm and heavy, restless at the same time. There's a gentle throbbing in her lower belly, a tension that needs release. She thinks about Holtzmann's skin under her tongue as she touches herself. She tries not to.

***

She's eating again, licking her fingers free of cherry juice, restlessly putting another berry in her mouth. Before that, it was chocolate. Yesterday, it was popcorn. Her lips demanded to be occupied, to be on or against something. She catches Holtzmann looking at her. She absentmindedly runs her fingers over her clunky pendant as she licks her lips, like she's the one with cherry juice on them, not Erin. There were no sounds, apart from Erin swallowing and the almost inaudible motion of Holtzmann's fingers on the worn metal. Erin doesn't know what to say and offers her a cherry instead. Holtzmann takes it and Erin regrets it the moment her pink tongue touches the dark surface. Holtzmann's dimples deepen as she eats, sucking the juice out. Erin doesn't know if she licks her lips slowly on purpose, or if it's just in her head, but it makes her heart race. Holtzmann's tongue is so agile. Holtzmann's tinkering is constant today. She looks at Erin while cutting a length of cord and curses under her breath when she sees that she's cut the wrong part, the one attached to the machine. Erin watches her as she goes over her proton pack with a soft rag until it shines. There's no reason for it. The packs are supposed to be functional, they don't have to be visually appealing. Erin stares at the bared skin between the edge of Holtzmann's crop top and her paint splashed overalls, the same outfit she had worn the first time they met. She had thought it wildly inappropriate in a lab with dangerous equipment. She still does. But it's so very Holtzmann. She doesn't look, she stares, she's aware of that.

She can long for Abby, long for hugging her. It makes her feel safe and warm. Patty too. It's like being pressed to the chest of a benevolent bear. The way she longs for Holtzmann is different. A strange ache in her own skin, on the palm of her hands. A craving. Sometimes, Erin reaches out for her, without thinking. She stops herself when she realises there is no acceptable reason for her to touch Holtzmann. None that can be easily explained. She can taste her in her mouth in some strange way, even though her lips has never been in contact with her. It's disconcerting and thrilling at the same time.

Holtzmann walks past her. Or sidles along. Slowly. Her hips brush against Erin's. She puts her hands on her, briefly, as a warning that she's passing through and as a placeholder. She feels it again. _Fuckfuckfuck_ she tries not to look into her beautiful eyes. But there's eye contact and other contact and Erin feels like she's falling. Holtzmann looks up and then quickly away. But she doesn't move. She stays like that. Erin inches closer almost imperceptibly. Holtzmann flinches when Abby calls out to her from the first floor.

"Yup! Coming!"

And she's gone, leaving Erin with a dry mouth and a dull, hot throbbing in her belly.

***

Holtzmann imitates the mayor during lunch. She’s surprisingly good at it and they’re all in stitches by the end. Erin grabs Holtzmann’s arm to steady herself. Gradually, they calm down, but Erin’s hand is still resting on the soft skin of Holtzmann’s underarm as they clear their throats and wipe their eyes. Abby says she has something to show them in the lab and they get up and follow her. Erin’s hand slides off Holtzmann’s arm as she moves, but Holtzmann catches it. They’re not holding hands, Erin reminds herself. Her loose fist is just sort of cradled in Holtzmann’s palm. So, they listen to Abby, and pretend that they’re not holding hands.

Erin says she needs to go to the bathroom, but really, she just needs to hide. The thoughts race through her head as she lets out a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding. She’s never understood the world less than she does right now, in this moment. She touches her knuckles. They’re still warm. But they weren't holding hands, she reminds herself. But, what if…

She’s dying to talk to Abby about it, but she can’t. How can she tell her that her best friend has spent her time trying to make her other best friend touch her as much as possible? That Erin and Holtzmann has spent hours with their hands on each other, literally behind their backs. She desperately wants to ask Abby what it means, what she thinks it means that Holtzmann doesn't get tired of touching her, that Holtzmann plays her game of trying to end up next to her every time they sit down, how she's almost sure Holtzmann almost kissed her last week. She wants to tell her how Holtzmann makes her feel like her body has been woken up from a deep sleep. She wants to tell Abby that she wants her desperately, even though she doesn't know how it happened. But she can't. Because Abby might tell her what a bad idea it is, how it could ruin everything for the team, throw the dynamic off, how it would be terribly unprofessional -- and she'd be right. And even worse: Abby knows Holtzmann better than anyone. She could tell Erin it's all in her head, that Holtzmann doesn't think of her that way and this is just the way she is, she could do the same with Abby, or Patty. So, Erin doesn't ask.

***

It's all Abby's fault. Holtzmann has to stay and monitor a test they're doing, just to make sure the process isn't interrupted. When they eat together after a long day, Abby says that Erin should keep Holtzmann company tonight, so she's not bored being stuck here on her own. Somehow, Erin doesn't think Holtzmann does bored, but she's caught off guard. Abby and Patty are busy, so that leaves Erin. She's hasn't been alone with Holtzmann for long since they became ghostbusters: an hour here and there, unless you count the numerous times they've been in the lab together, with the others on another floor. But there has always been the promise, or threat, of being interrupted and Erin doesn't know whether to be terrified or thrilled, so she ends up being both when it's decided before she has a chance to open her mouth.

Erin goes out and buys wine and beer, just to be on the safe side, she's not sure what Holtzmann's first choice is. There's whisky in one of the cupboards in the kitchen, she checked. It's not that she wants them to get drunk, it's just that she needs some dutch courage and something to knock the edge off. Or maybe she does want them to get drunk. When it's just them, she doesn't have Abby and Patty to hide behind. She has to be just Erin with just Holtzmann, which is so much harder. She wants… She honestly doesn't know what she wants. She just...wants. She’s acting like she has a date and it’s ridiculous. What is she expecting? She asks herself that question, sternly. She doesn’t have an answer. Maybe she’s hoping that Holtzmann will do...something. That thing. Or that she will herself. Or that something will just happen. She’s afraid of it at the same time. She wouldn’t be Erin if she didn’t worry. She wears much less than she normally does. A pair of men's boxer shorts she found at the back of a drawer and a tank. An outfit Holtzmann might have worn. Erin wants to offer her as much choice of naked skin as possible without looking like that's what she's doing.

Holtzmann is dapper as hell when she comes down. Crisp shirt, silk scarf, those pants that makes her look… She's even wearing socks in her chunky boots. They may be matching, Erin can’t quite make it out from the narrow, exposed strip between tweed and leather. That’s terrible. She doesn’t know what to do with that information. She had expected Holtzmann to change, like she had, but not into something less comfortable. She feels ridiculous in her outfit now, but movie night, if that's what this was, had always been about wearing whatever was most comfortable of the clothes they kept at the firehouse.

”You look... nice. You’re… Ironed?”

Holtzmann shrugs.

”It happens.”

No, it doesn’t. OK, well, maybe it does occasionally. But never when she’s cuddled up to Erin on the couch, never like this, never at "home", since Holtzmann more or less lives there and sleeps there most nights.

"Holtz…?"

"Mmhmm?"

"You don't...want to come and sit over here?"

There's a curly lock of blond hair that falls onto her forehead and brushes her ear. Erin is dying to touch it. Holtzmann's smile is stiff and strange.

"I'm fine."

"But… Do you even see the screen properly from there?"

"It's fine."

To say that Erin was confused didn't cover it. Deprived was more like it. Bereft. She misses Holtzmann's warmth and touch so much she can't focus on what they’re watching. She’s drinking too much wine just to keep her hands occupied. Holtzmann barely touched hers and she could still hold her liquor much better than Erin. Half an hour later, nothing had changed. Holtzmann is still sitting on her own, pressed up against the armrest of the couch like she’s trying to escape.

"I could...give you a backrub for a change? If you like…"

Erin had no clue if she was good at backrubs, even. But she'd do almost anything to bridge this distance between them and make Holtzmann come back to her.

"I'm fine. Thanks for offering, though."

This stiff politeness, so out of character for Holtzmann, and this distance, so out of character for them lately: suddenly Erin feels angry. Furious at Holtzmann for these mixed signals, when she had a hard enough time to figure Holtzmann out on any normal day, let alone this new, strange version of her?

She gets up and glares at Holtzmann.

"What is this? Make-fun-of-Erin-night? Funny, Holtz. Really funny."

Holtzmann turns around slowly and Erin tries to decipher the look on her face. She has no clue if it’s hurt or anger.

"Of all the possible conclusions to draw, this is the one you pick? Fuck you, Erin."

Erin is shocked by the harsh tone of Holtzmann’s voice. She realised that Holtzmann hadn’t raised her voice or said an angry word to her since they met and became ghostbusters. It hurt. Holtzmann gets up and walks away, an angry, stiff back and hard, unforgiving boots slapping against the floor. Erin runs after her and grabs her arm.

"I'm sorry. I just don't know what to think.”

Holtzmann stopped.

”Yeah, I’m… I’m sorry too.”

”Why did you run?"

Holtzmann didn’t reply and Erin felt like stomping her foot in frustration.

”Holtz… Don’t you think we need to talk about...you know. This whole thing?”

”What thing?”

”Really, Holtz? That’s how you want to play it?”

Holtzmann opens her mouth. Then closes it again. She frowns as she looks down on the floor.

”Holtzmann...Talk to me?”

”I get...afraid.

”Afraid…? Afraid of what?”

Holtzmann took a deep breath

"I get afraid. That...I won't be able to help myself around you. I need Abby and Patty there to interrupt me."

Erin felt like she was falling. This beautiful, brilliant, vibrant person wanted her so much she feared for her self-control, just being near her?

"What if I do something wrong and make you hate me? Abby might hate me. You're my best friends."

"You said we would turn to ashes from the inside if we got our beams tangled, but I'm still here."

She takes Holtzmann's reluctant hand and presses it against her sternum, over her obstinately beating heart. She can feel the tension behind Holtzmann's self-restraint.

"Sometimes I miss you even when we're together."

Holtzmann’s palm flattens against her chest, over her heart. Erin feels the moment her resistance breaks.

She doesn’t wait for Holtzmann to kiss her, she meets her halfway, hands tugging impatiently on the crisp cotton. She's waited weeks for this, the longest foreplay of her life. She's already busy pulling Holtzmann’s shirt out of her pants as their first kiss deepens and becomes something else: she gasps as Holtzmann’s warm hand pushes past the waist of the boxer shorts and lands on her lower back. Lower… She arches into the touch. She pulls Holtzmann back against the couch, trying to undo her buttons with trembling hands, but apparently, she’s too passion-drunk to walk and use her fine motor skills at the same time. Holtzmann tries to kick her heavy boots off, but only manages one. Her vest is hanging off her shoulders now, but she’s wearing way more than Erin is, still. Holtzmann hovers over her and the coarse tweed and crisp cotton scraping against her naked skin is one of the most erotic moments of Erin's life. She struggles with the buttons again and manages, finally. She pulls on the fabric, tugs it hard to bring Holtzmann close and gasps when they’re skin to skin again, but no pretences this time. Erin is done with pretences. She kisses Holtzmann again, or maybe Holtzmann kisses her, she doesn’t know but she knows it’s demanding and hungry and she’s never been kissed like this, never kissed like this. She can’t get enough of her lips and she greedily lets her tongue slide along Holtzmann’s and they fit… They fit together.

Holtzmann kisses the top of her breast and pushes some of the lace to the side impatiently. Of course Erin’s wearing lace, she went all in for this: this was both love and war, if a mental one, and everything is allowed. Holtzmann’s tongue swirls around her nipple and she might as well have gone straight to her sex, because Erin’s so sensitive, her hard nipples strain against Holtzmann’s warm tongue, screaming for more. She brushes the soft cotton of the boxer shorts over her sex. Normally, Erin is a slow starter. She needs time to get worked up, to get ready for the next phase. She doesn’t realise that she’s holding her breath until Holtzmann’s hand slides inside the fabric, finds how wet she already is and groans, a low sensuous sound that goes straight to her core.

There's nothing new here. Nothing that hasn't happened to her before: fingertips brushing her wet sex, lips around her nipple, soft, whispered words in her ear. So why is she flinching? Why is she trembling and reacting like every touch is shocking and strange? Why are Holtzmann's hands on her different than other hands, lips like she's never been kissed before? She feels like she might cry when Holtzmann says her name softly, against her neck. She knows the motions, but not the emotions. Everything is new. Erin is new.

”Guys? You won’t believe this, but I lost my key even though it was pinned to my bra strap. Safety pin broke, what are the odds? So I had to come get my spare. Patty’s here too, I ran into her in the street outside. There’s a portion of the metro down, it’s chaos out there.”

"Always my least favourite line when I worked at the MTA. Nope, nothing but trouble.”

”So, we decided to come back and have a drink with you guys instead!”

Abby and Patty walk around the corner in the same moment as Erin manages to pull her tank top back on. The sound of the heavy door creaking made her freeze and lose a few precious moments, as Holtzmann literally rolled of her and ended up on the floor, before frantically trying to make her buttons obey and succeeding only marginally. Nobody bats an eyelid at Holtzmann's untucked shirt. She could probably be naked, and it would be far from the weirdest thing she had done since they started working together. And Holtzmann wearing only one shoe? Could happen any day of the week.

So, it's probably only in Erin’s paranoid mind that the air is thick with what just happened. She can smell Holtzmann on herself, even without pressing her nose against her own skin. Her heart is racing so hard it's uncomfortable. She can feel Holtzmann’s hand against the soft folds of her sex like it's still there. To say that she's aroused doesn't do justice to the uproar her body is in. Erin had forgotten what it was like to be this turned on. She glances at Holtzmann, who's trying to pretend she's listening to Abby's story. She loves their friends, but she can't think of anything but them leaving again. Holtzmann subtly wipes her fingers on the leg of her pants, and Erin realises that it's her she's wiping off. Her arousal, so Abby won't notice that her best friend's hand is soaked with the pleasure of her other best friend. She wants her so much it hurts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, guys! Can't get any worse, amirite? Thanks so much for reading and for the kudos!

Erin keeps glancing at Holtzmann during the torturous hours that follow. Erin assumed she would calm down, but she doesn’t, still so close to Holtzmann on the couch. Holtzmann had only managed two buttons on her shirt and Erin can see everything from her angle: the plane of her stomach and her navel, that Erin for some reason finds unbearably cute; the curve of her breast and most of her metal grey bra and Erin wants to take it off and touch her so much.  
Holtzmann hardly looks at her. But Erin thinks she might know why: Holtzmann’s gorgeous, expressive face is a known quantity to Abby, who seems to be able to read Holtzmann like a book. Erin used to be a little jealous of that: now she’s just worried that Abby will figure out exactly what’s been going on before she has a chance to do that herself.  
No two hours have ever felt that long. Erin doesn’t say much: her voice sounds strange when she does, so she errs on the side of caution. Their friends finally leave to share a taxi.

Erin hears Holtzmann’s steps on the stairs and follows with a stomach full of butterflies. Holtzmann is in her room, perfectly still, in the dark. Erin doesn't know what to say, but she’ll be damned if she lets Holtzmann run away from this. She steps over the threshold and doesn’t have to say anything when Holtzmann meets her halfway. It’s almost violent when they clash again. She pushes her tongue into Holtzmann's mouth and grabs the soft flesh of her hip. She's made of want.  
She fails at something so basic as removing her own bra, because her hands are nervous and impatient. Holtzmann manages on her own. Her hand goes to her shoulder and caresses the mark left by the bra strap and she bends her head down and kisses it. Erin’s chest blushes almost crimson under Holtzmann’s touch. She takes a deep breath and manages to make Holtzmann's bra follow her own to the floor. She cups her breast: it's just as soft as she imagined. She stops for a moment, to savour the sensation, but Holtzmann makes an impatient noise and she flexes her fingers, moves her thumb over her nipple. The noise is different this time: low and breathy.

"Off."

Erin pushes Holtzmann’s underwear down her hips, along with her pants. Holtzmann lifts her feet obediently and kick them off. Erin gets down on her knees and kisses her hip bones, slides her tongue along her stomach, like in the dream she had. She doesn't know what goes, if there's a script she needs to follow for sex with another woman. When Holtzmann moans softly, she thinks not. There's almost never a script with Holtzmann.  
Holtzmann naked is all snow, gold and sapphire and Erin can’t stop looking and touching. She slides her fingers down and feels her slick, hot arousal and groans.  
They finally end up on the bed. Holtzmann's warm hand moves up the inside of her thigh while they're kissing. Erin shifts to accommodate and encourage her. She feels how wet she is, how ready for Holtzmann. Erin groans when Holtzmann replaces her hand with her mouth. It's warm and hot and Erin bucks into the motion of Holtzmann's tongue slowly traveling up and her lips close around the soft, slick parts of Erin’s sex. She knew how good Holtzmann would be at this. She just knew. Her full lips close around her, and her tongue follows, drawing circles and long lines and Erin arches into her and grabs the sheet, white-knuckled and prays silently that Jillian won’t stop, that she will let her come from this, because it feels so good. Erin doesn't normally come the first time with a new lover. Not always the second or third either. Almost never, in the case of her second boyfriend. But Holtzmann is so patient, and such a good lover. She shockingly feels it now, the tight, white heat coiled within her.

"God...Holtzmann, I think I'm going to…"

...and there it is, the moment just before, the second before Holtzmann makes her come, and she has to close her eyes because everything's so bright and her grip tightens and here it is, the wave, and she draws oxygen into her lungs like a drowning woman. When she lays her head down, she's exhausted, but she still wants to do this all night, would do anything to keep Holtzmann's hands and lips on her. Holtzmann crawls back up and plays with her hair and strokes her back as she comes down from her high, face in the crook of Holtzmann’s neck.

Erin sees from her body language that she thinks they're finished. That Erin took her pleasure and that was it. The straight girl getting what she wants, never mind Holtzmann’s own pleasure. It makes her angry and her heart break at the same time. She doesn’t know what sort of girls have shared Holtzmann’s bed before, doesn’t want to know, but promises to do better.

She rolls over, on her side, and cups Holtzmann’s neck. She kisses her deeply, with care and dedication. Holtzmann moans softly into her mouth. Erin doesn’t know where she gets the confidence from as she softly pushes her onto her back and lays down in the cradle of her thighs. She loved Holtzmann taking the lead, but she wants to show her that this is mutual: that’s it’s Holtzmann’s turn to reap the fruits of the sexual tension that they’ve sown together after all those hours of touching. Maybe it’s not that advanced or refined, she’s too much of a novice for that. But she hopes that she feels the passion and dedication. Erin puts one of her hands on Holtzmann’s hip bone and grinds against the soft curls of her pubic bone and her wet folds and Holtzmann answers, impatiently grinding back and Erin can’t get over how hot she looks, dishevelled, chest heaving, eyes half closed and mouth half open, and how much she wants her. Erin is a scientist. She has to know, so she whispers a question and Holtzmann’s walls push against her fingers, hot and wet and she groans. Why hasn’t anybody told her before what this was like, how good it felt? When Holtzmann comes and coats her hand in silky arousal, it's the hottest thing Erin has ever seen. She watches the miracle of Holtzmann's climax slack-jawed.

***

”I can’t believe I made you come like that…”

”Neither can I.”

Erin must have looked crestfallen, because Holtzmann takes her hand and kisses it, before making her turn her head to look at her.

”Not as in: ’I can’t believe you were good at that. As in: I can’t believe you’re here in my bed. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

”It’s not just me...right? It was really...good?”

Holtzmann makes a disgusted face and strangled noise.

”Really? You’re going to insult this mind-blowing experience with ’good’?”

Erin breathes a sigh of relief. She can feel Holtzmann smiling against her skin before kissing her neck.

"We are _excessively_ sexually compatible."

They start kissing again. There is another and another and another, or maybe it’s the same kiss all long, just growing and changing, but all Erin knows is that it makes her heart pound and her breath hitch and there is only Holtzmann, and her skin and her scent and her genius hands.

***

She lifts her head up from the pillow and looks at her disbelievingly.

“Holtzmann... Come on, not again. I think you’ve broken me.”

“I’d just like to know if I can.”

“Making me come isn’t one of your weird experiments, you know...”

Very gently, Holtzmann puts her palm against Erin’s warm sex.

“Oh god... You are, aren’t you? Gently, OK?”

Her lover nods eagerly and as promised, very gently moves her hand, smiling in delight as Erin can’t hold back a soft groan of pleasure.

***

It takes Erin a long time to fall asleep. She’s too high on what happened and on Holtzmann. But she’s not bored. She looks down on the warm, relaxed weight on her shoulder and feels completely content: a feeling as lovely as it is alien. It occurs to her that she's lost a friend, in a way: she'll never be able to see Holtzmann as anything other than her lover now.

***

Holtzmann looks like an angel sleeping, her mane of blonde hair spread out on the pillow next to Erin. She's pushed the covers down, exposing her back down to her hip bones. She runs hot at night, like she does in everything in her life.

Erin touches her shoulder blade, follows the curve down to her waist. She almost feels guilty for waking her, but there's a slow, hot throbbing in her body, screaming for her touch.  
She stirs, mumbles something and rolls over on her back. Just a few weeks ago, she hadn't given breasts a second thought. Holtzmann had broadened Erin sexual horizons with breakneck speed. Now, she couldn't imagine anything more arousing than shaping her hand around the soft little hillock and hear Holtzmann mumble something in her sleep. The milky skin of Holtzmann's chest blushes when she kisses it. Her eyelids flutter and Erin watches a smile spread slowly on her face. She touched her dimples and the creases around her eyes with her fingertips and watches her long blond lashes before her eyes opened. She got lost in how blue they are.

"I obviously don't have to offer a penny for your thoughts."

Holtzmann glances down on Erin's hand on her chest.

"Sorry for waking you."

She isn't and Holtzmann knows it. Her lover grins suggestively at her. She looks so happy and Erin is blown away by the fact that she’s the probable cause of it.

”You’re beautiful, Holtz. Do you know that?”

Erin doesn't get an answer, since Holtzmann is too busy kissing her. It's not even five minutes before they're grinding against each other, Holtzmann's moisture on her thigh and Erin moaning into her mouth. Erin think she probably can't come like this, but she doesn't want to stop, because it feels so good with Holtzmann's hot arousal against her own. Holtzmann remembers that spot on her neck that drives her crazy and sucks it gently. Her firm stomach moves against Erin’s sex and she’s almost, almost coming. She waits as long as she can bear it before whispering in the quiet room.

”I need your hand.”

”Like this?”

Holtzmann’s voice is low and breathy in her ear and she shivers.

”Yes. God, Holtz…”

The pressure from Holtzmann’s lips and tongue on her neck gets more insistent and Erin thinks that she’s going to leave a mark, but she doesn’t care. She really, really doesn’t care. She’s so close…

Holtzmann keeps moving her hand, moving her fingertips over her sensitive nerve endings, her palm over her swollen folds and Erin falls, again. And Holtzmann is there to catch her.

“Don’t...”

Holtzmann gently captures her hand and stops her from covering up. For a few moments, she lays still and looks at Erin. She trails her finger along her collarbone and down her upper arm and cups her elbow. Erin understands it's more of an exploration than a seduction, but that doesn’t calm her erratically beating heart or make her breath any steadier. She touches one of the light freckles on her chest. One by one, she connects them, drawing a picture with her fingertips. Holtzmann's face morphs into the "focus frown" that Erin knows so well.

"What are you doing?"

"Counting freckles.”

"Why?"

”I need to know exactly how many there are."

She smiles softly at the strangeness of Holtzmann.

”Why?”

"I need to know everything about you."

A wave of tenderness washes over her. Someone else might have said it to sound cute. Holtzmann meant it literally. She runs her fingers through her hair. Holtzmann keeps counting. Every time Holtzmann touches her, a void inside of her closes.

***

Later, she walks up to Holtzmann in her turtleneck. Holtzmann folds the edge down and looks at the dusky mark on Erin’s neck, right above her collarbone.

”I’m sorry…”

”Really, Holtz? You’re sorry?”

She can see the smile playing in the corner of Holtzmann’s mouth and how she struggles to contain it.

”So… You totally didn’t do that on purpose, then?”

Holtzmann touches it gently, brushes her fingers over it. The mixture between pleasure and the slightest hint of pain makes her shiver.

”OK. Maybe a... little bit on purpose. I love seeing me on you, I’m sorry.”

”No, you’re not.”

Erin has to kiss her again. Holtzmann’s fingertips just barely, gently, touches the mark while they do.

***

You transfer 80 000 bacteria between you, when you French kiss. Erin tells herself this as a test to see if she wants to kiss Holtzmann any less. Because right now? She wants to kiss her all the time. She wants it so much she can't work. She stares at the whiteboard, calculations dancing uncooperatively in front of her eyes like a language she doesn't speak. She closes her eyes and feels the ghost of Holtzmann's hand on her breast, her tongue on her sex, her lips on the soft skin of her neck. She thinks about how Holtzmann likes to keep kissing throughout the entire sex act, only pausing to kiss other places, other parts. And how she doesn’t like it if Erin keeps her eyes closed for too long, and how she'll softly say her name until she looks at her.

She should be freaking out, probably. But she's too high on her own desire to have room in her mind for anything else. She didn't know she could feel this attracted to someone. It would have been so much easier if it hadn't been Holtzmann, the _woman_ she works and plays with on a daily basis. But that's also why she so damn attracted. She's the most brilliant and unconventional person she knows and paired with Holtzmann's obvious physical beauty, she's irresistible. Apparently, her gender isn't a factor. Erin didn't know that about herself. It's too late now. Her body is awake, and she doesn't ever want it to go back to sleep again. Holtzmann woke her up.

Holtzmann has been remarkably silent all day. Five minutes ago, she stopped tinkering with a circuit board and looked up at Erin. Her pink tongue darted out and swiped her lip and Erin could feel it on her skin even across the room. Holtzmann smiles a smile full of tangled bedsheets and heated skin. Afterward, Erin’s underwear is sticky with need and her nipples strain against the soft cotton of her t-shirt. She resents every activity that keeps her away from Holtzmann. She wants to drag her back to bed and feel her sweat on her chest and her moans in her ear.

Erin corners her by the staircase. The kiss is hurried and heated, Patty's just around the corner. She cups Holtzmann's ass and Holtzmann’s hands find their way under her top, before they hear Patty come and they jump apart.

Patty has a family thing that night, so only Abby lingers after office hours. Erin hints at leaving right after her and feels guilty for the almost-lie for a few seconds after the door slams. But only as long as it takes for Holtzmann to wrap her arms around her neck. Only as long as it takes before she feels Holtzmann’s body heat through the soft cut-up t-shirt and only for as long as she has to wait before they stumble toward Holtzmann’s bed together, wise from yesterday’s experience to hide their desire behind a closed door.

That night, Erin kisses her way down Holtzmann’s body and discovers that she loves going down on a woman. Or maybe just Holtzmann, she doesn’t know, since Holtzmann is her first. Putting her lips against something so soft, slick and hot is desperately arousing. Holtzmann is so responsive and Erin feels sexually powerful and sexy in a way she never has before. Making Holtzmann come like that makes her feel like there's nothing she can't do.

Holtzmann tries to pretend that her stomach isn’t growling, after hours of sweaty, passionate exercise. Erin laughs and calls out for pizza, relieved she’s not the one who has to break the mood. Erin tries to tell Holtzmann she can’t open the door barefoot in nothing but her red smoking jacket. Holtzmann just winks and does it anyway. Erin loves her for it. Erin wonders how many people gets to see Holtzmann like this: curls falling freely down her back, no mismatched socks or eccentric neckties, calm bordering on supine, like Erin finally managed to make her spend all that energy they envy in the all-singing-all-dancing-all-crazy-genius-inventor-Holtzmann-extravaganza. The pizza delivery guy stares for a few seconds before handing the boxes over. Erin wonders of Holtzmann thinks it’s because she opened the door in more or less a robe, or if she knows it’s because she’s gorgeous and anyone with a pair of eyes would stare at her dressed like this.

They wolf pizza down ravenously, sitting on the floor leaning against Holtzmann’s bed. When they’re done, Holtzmann slowly and purposefully uses the last of the soft drink to rinse her mouth out before she turns her head to kiss Erin like they’d never stopped. It’s strange, and strangely considerate, sort of like Holtzmann herself. Erin kisses her back with abandon. She has no idea why it feels so romantic to be kissed by a naked Holtzmann in this narrow bed, with empty pizza boxes strewn on the floor along with their clothes and scrunched up blueprints. But it does. Erin sighs softly into her mouth and wraps her arms around her.

***

On the third day, she hovers outside like an idiot, tense with the awkwardness of not knowing if she has an open invite to Holtzmann’s bed or not. A mop of blond hair followed by a pair of quizzically raised eyebrows pop around the doorframe.

”You coming?”

Erin nods as relief makes her exhale the tension. She has. She laughs. She really fucking has.

Holtzmann says she was so distracted by Erin that she didn’t get any work done today. She’s says that with Erin in the same room, their long-term productivity is threatened. The tone of her voice is earnest when she asks Erin if she knows how hot she is, as she kisses the underside of her breast.

Holtzmann is curled up against her, Erin’s legs crossed in the small of her back. Her fingers are buried in her to the knuckles. Erin moans helplessly as she moves so slowly inside her, tiny even thrusts that drives Erin insane. Her sweaty chest brushes against Erin’s and she kisses her again, Erin doesn’t know how many hundred times she already has. Holtzmann is everywhere: Erin still pulls her closer, whispers _please don’t stop_ and Holtzmann mumbles _never_ in her ear as she flexes her fingers inside of Erin and curls them. Erin shapes a hand around her breast. She loves the soft parts of her. Erin is done with rough: she craves this silk under her fingers.

***

Erin had read about it: how things that don’t normally turn you on will if you’re in love. How you’re not disgusted by things you’re normally put off by if the lovely chemicals of intoxication coursing through your veins. She kisses Holtzmann in the bathroom, in the middle of brushing her teeth, half dissolved toothpaste still on her lips. She can’t help herself, the impulse to grab her and kiss her is too strong. She licks her sweaty neck when they make out dangerously close to one of Holtzmann’s machines, humming menacingly in their ears. She doesn’t care. She craves the salt on her tongue as she pulls a sweaty, half-undressed Holtzmann closer. She’s never even tasted herself, just to see what it was like. Her hand trembled with impatience as she licked Holtzmann’s arousal off her fingers last night. She stops in her tracks, coffee mug forgotten in her hand. When you’re in love, you do things you wouldn’t want to do otherwise. You’re not disgusted by things you do with the person you’re in love with that you would be disgusted by otherwise. Is she...in love with Holtzmann?

***

On the sixth night sleeping in Holtzmann’s bed, they talk about it.

"When did you know you wanted to...Do this?"

"I was so angry with you when you walked into the lab and I realised you were Erin. The Erin Abby said she didn't want to talk about, but couldn't stop talking about once she started."

Her face says something other than angry, though.

Erin makes a pained noise.

"I know… I was awful to Abby."

Holtzmann takes her hand and kisses it.

"My brain was angry...but...the rest of me? Urgh, I wanted you from the first moment. No one has turned me on like you do.”

Holtzmann is like that, Erin has discovered. Open. Not afraid to be vulnerable. Not like Erin at all, in other words. But she’s changing. She can feel it and she can hear herself when she’s talking to Holtzmann.

”I know, right?”

She frowns.

”I mean… You too… You get my point, right?”

”I do.”

Holtzmann grins at her and there it is, that rollercoaster stomach she gets every time Holtzmann smiles.

”So... Would it be safe to say that… You’re a little bisexual… Maybe…?”

Holtzmann is so weird. So fundamentally strange and other that Erin thinks she’ll never understand her. Erin’s feelings are new too, strange. But she feels. It’s a split-second decision to tell her, but she’s bursting, flowing over with this information and she can’t help herself. She takes a deep breath.

"What I am… is… in love with you, I think."

Holtzmann just gapes at her, eyes wide with shock. Just when Erin thinks she’s a made a huge mistake, Holtzmann kisses her. The kiss is so tender and slow, in direct contrast to Erin's racing heart.

The sex is different that night. Less urgent. Holtzmann takes her time touching all of her, so slowly that she's on the verge of begging in the end. She's never even been close to that with another lover. But it's such sweet, sweet torture and she never wants that torment to end. Holtzmann says it back just after she comes, when Erin's trying to catch her breath with her head on Holtzmann's chest. She whispers it when she traces her earlobe with the tip of her fingers, just like she did that night when Erin lost control of the situation. Erin isn't confused any more, she knows what it is now. It's just love, no big mystery.

***

Erin wakes up when Holtzmann sits straight up in bed and looks wildly around her in the dark room.

”Did I dream it?”

Erin is barely awake, but sits up too and rubs her clearly upset lover between her shoulder blades soothingly.

”Dream what?”

”I dreamed you told me…”

”That I... loved you?”

”Yeah.”

Erin scoots over and wraps her arms around her from behind.

”Not a dream.”

”Really?”

Holtzmann leans back into her and Erin somehow feel her smiling even if she can’t see her face.

”Awesome.”

They stay like that, holding each other for exactly as long as it takes for Erin’s heartbeat and breath to slow down until it matches Holtzmann’s.

***

”Jillian?”

”Mmhmm?”

”Could you hand me that?”

Holtzmann absentmindedly gets her the whiteboard eraser.  
Erin sees Abby look at her with raised eyebrows.

”You get to call her ’Jillian’?”

Holtzmann waves a hand in Abby’s general direction, face still close to the device she’s working on.

”It’s fine. I kind of like it.”

Abby doesn’t say anything more, but Erin hears her mutter under her breath.

***

Holtzmann is a romantic. Erin hadn’t known that about her. She looks at the magnificent stargazer lily on her desk. Holtzmann remembered her favourite flower. Like she remembered how she took her coffee and how she liked to be held after sex. Holtzmann remembered.  
Erin smiles. A messy romantic, she thinks, as she tries to clean sticky maroon spores off her open notebook.

Holtzmann sees the stains and Erin says it’s fine, it really is. But the next day, there’s a gorgeous, exact copy of it, made from different shades of scrap metal, resting on her desk. Erin touches the fine petals and knows whatever happens next, she’s going to keep it for the rest of her life: it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.  
She tells Holtzmann as she looks into her eyes and traces the line of her jaw with her fingers. She loves her face so much, she can’t stop looking and touching. Holtzmann becomes self-conscious and looks away. She clears her throat. Erin recognises the tone of voice Holtzmann only uses when she's about to say something from the heart. Something emotional.

”What’s the matter?”

"You're Erin. I still can't believe you'd look at me that way."

She slides her arm around her shoulder and pulls her close. She kisses her temple. It the first kiss between them without any sexual undertone, just tenderness.

"Believe it."

Holtzmann tears up.

"OK."

***

They’re on the couch, facing each other. One of Erin’s legs is between Holtzmann’s. Holtzmann’s hand rests lazily in the small of Erin’s back. Erin’s hand is on Holtzmann’s cheek, tracing her cheekbone with her thumb. It’s some sort of a mixture between a make-out session and a conversation. Erin knows where they’re going, but is in no hurry to get there. Kissing Jillian, with all the time in the world on your hands, is Erin’s idea of a perfect afternoon.  
Holtzmann tells Erin about her newest idea and Erin doesn't quite catch it, since she looks at Holtzmann when she talks and has to kiss her. Erin talks about this mathematical breakthrough she's had, but she's interrupted every twenty seconds by Holtzmann's lips.

There’s a shadow over Holtzmann’s face as they go down to meet the others. She knows why.

So, she takes Holtzmann’s hand, like it’s no big deal. Like it’s not huge to meet their friends like that. She’s sick of this game; the hiding and the whispers. She wants to hold Holtzmann’s hand. She wants them to sit together tonight and say yes when Patty and Abby ask if this is what it looks like. It is. It’s exactly what it looks like. It always has been.  
Abby raises her eyebrows in surprise and looks at their joined hands and then at Erin. Erin hesitates just for a moment and then nods almost imperceptibly. She's holding the hand of the woman she loves, and her best friend is happy for her. Erin smiles back at a grinning Abby.


End file.
